CHASING WALT

Okay, yeah, so I went to Vulgarthon. More importantly, however, I met “The Man”. Now for some of you fellow View Askew fans, the man might be Kevin Smith, Ben Affleck, Jason Lee, or maybe even Jason Mewes. But for me and my friend Phil, the man is...WALT FLANAGAN! From the day I read the credits of Clerks and realized the good ol’ Flanagan Man had successfully changed himself to play four different characters, I became completely infatuated with the being who’s most famous line goes, “Tell em Steve-Dave.”

Anyway, how I got to meet Walt Flanagan is contained within this overlong tale...and I suppose I’ll build up to that. For now, let me chronicle my trip to Red Bank... Uhhhhh, I dunno. I started in Long Island, went to Penn Station, hopped on the New Jersey Transit and headed for New Brunswick. On the train ride over some guy wouldn’t stop whistling- he was out of tune, and I think he was just making up the song as he went along. This severely pissed off most train passengers, most notably the girl a couple of rows over, who said, “Shhhh,” and then looked to me for approval. Being a New Yorker, I ignored her. Stupid bitch.

My train landed in New Brunswick and waiting for me at the station was my friend Phil- Rutgers college student and Josh Saviano look-a-like. He and I took a bus to Rutgers and hung out in his dorm room. I marveled at the fact that his refrigerator contained only beverages and spent countless hours playing with his Ash action figure.

When night came, we realized making this trip to Red Bank would be a true endurance test. After figuring out travel time, we figured out we’d have to be up at 4:45 AM, in order to make it to The Stash at a sensible hour. Seeing as we usually go to sleep at 4 AM, we decided our best method would be to stay up all night long. We pumped ourselves up with Mountain Dew and watched Fright Night and Nightmare on Elm Street 3, along with several hours of the home shopping network and TV news. (No cable...which is cool, because TV sucks anyway).

By the time 4:45 rolled around we were so goddamned fucking delirious from watching bad infomercials, drinking caffeinated soda and playing Dreamcast that the two of us, Phil and I, trusted compadres, may have even turned on each other had the promise of meeting Walt Flanagan not been so important to us.

We called a taxi, made our way over to the New Jersey Transit again, and waited in the station. We figured we might as well get some breakfast, and while on line at a McDonald’s, some crazy fucking woman began screaming at me, saying I cut her off (I obviously hadn’t) and ranted, “I’m a person, don’t ignore me, I’m a person, blah blah blah.” I became so fed up with this stupid fucking whore and her stupid fucking accusations that I let her go ahead of me. So, stupid bitch, if you are reading this (which you probably aren’t, you illiterate fuck) GO FUCK YOURSELF!

Eventually, we hopped on the train, stopped at Red Bank, and, after following some fanboys (one who was named Hal) we ended up a block away from The Stash. I couldn’t believe it. My Mecca! The fucking holy trip. The place where I would meet WALT!

I expected Walt to be standing at the door in his View Askew Vulgarians hockey jersey, insulting the hell out of the pesky wannabes making their way through the door. Instead, I got some other dude. He was really cool and all...but he wasn’t Walt.

I go to this other dude, “Where do I pick up my tickets?” He goes, “In the back.” (I’m paraphrasing of course. I probably just babbled something like, “Huuhhhh tickets?” and he pointed and shook his head...but I’m the hero of this story, so I’ll make myself seem more intelligible).

Phil and I walked to the back, taking in the sites, and marveling at the kick ass DVD box set for the Jersey Trilogy, as well as that amazing Toronto Maple Leafs Jersey Alyssa wears oh so well in Chasing Amy.

My eyes were fixed on the walls above, as my ears picked up a sound. I heard a man talking in a voice which rang familiar. In a voice that had uttered such famous lines as, “...using filthy language in front of the customers...,” “Fucking Nazi,” “Cute cat, what it’s name?” and, of course, “Tell em Steve-Dave!” There he was, sitting on a bench, giving directions on a telephone while handing out tickets. It was Walt Fucking Flanagan. Phil and I were just so amazed. We were two friends, unable to carry on any type of conversation aside from, “That’s Walt Flanagan,” and, “I know,” spontaneous giggles sprinkled in-between.

I walked up to him, and he asked, “What’s your ticket number?” and I responded with, “Thirty-four and thirty-five.” He flipped through the box, confirmed my last name and handed me my tickets, saying, “You can pick up a T-shirt in that box.”

Now, I just had to take advantage of this. I was watching person after person not acknowledge the fact that this was WALT FUCKING FLANAGAN! This was the man who inspired Brodie. Who inspired Olef Berserker! So, I stuck out my hand and said, “I just want you to know, it’s great to meet you.”

Phil followed in stride, saying, “Yeah man, you rule,” and we walked away...both in awe.

We spent the next half hour in The Stash, wondering if we should break our rule. You see, both Phil and I agreed that we weren’t there to be geeky, autograph seeking fanboys, who walk up to someone like Kev Smith, get him to sign a Clerks poster (for future E-bay sale), then proceed to tell him something retarded like, “Were you aware that in the rain scene of Chasing Amy, you can see the camera crew in the storefronts?” (this bashing line goes to the dude who pointed out to Vincent Pereira that there was a continuity error in A Better Place. You and McDonald’s line lady can go fuck your respective selves.) Anyway, so, we didn’t want to be all like stupid and ask for a picture...but, well, we knew we had to. We had to impress our friends back home. We had to show them the deleted opening to Chasing Amy, along with a picture of us and Walt standing by some comic book shelves. Yet, we couldn’t gather up the courage. There was something about it that seemed so frightening. We walked to the movie theater line, feeling defeated.

Not much happened on the line. I mean, it was fucking cold, and Phil was paying attention to, “some kid in a yellow jacket,” who was kind of our marker (once he moved, we knew the line was moving), but, that’s about it. Oh yeah, and I saw that girl in the Trish the Dish outfit. Nice! Really cute girl there. And hey, if she’d like to e-mail a movie geek with an unhealthy Flanagan obsession, that’d be amazing.

Hey, and I haven’t heard anyone mention the fact that Kev’s mom was on the line. Really cool lady who I of course recognized as “The Milk Maid” from Clerks. Ah yes, and Kev-bo was on line, taking pictures with all, and wearing that kick ass Dogma coat. Man, that was the second time I’ve met Kev and he just gets cooler and cooler.

Walking in, I spotted good ol’ Vincent Pereira, shook his hand, and told him it was great to meet him. (Although five Kevs and ten Vincents don’t match the coolness factor of Walt).

Okay...watched the movies (cat napped a bit during Dogma...sorry, I was delusional from not having slept at all)...and, wow, that Fat Albert scene is fucking hilarious.

Ah yes, and, must say, A Better Place is just goddamned unbelievable. Vincent Pereira has made an amazing, amazing movie, and I even babbled that to him when I spoke to him further and asked if he had any advice for budding filmmakers. His advice, “Watch as many movies as you can.” Pereira is the shit, yo. (Oh yeah, small note. I just think it’d be pretty fucking cool if Walt Flanagan were put on one of those Q&A panels. I’ll shut up now.)

Allright, so, dinner break came, and Phil and I went in search of a payphone, in order to call and secure our ride back to Rutgers. We found one right outside The Stash, Phil shoved in his loose change, and talked to his folks. The phone call was lasting a little longer than I anticipated, so, I said to Phil, “I’m gonna go into The Stash and try to talk to Walt Flanagan.” Phil nodded and smiled.

I walked in, and there he was. Walt Flanagan, walking around. I noticed something though. People were taking pictures with him! People knew and respected the man that is Walt. So, when Phil walked in, I said to him, “Now’s our chance to get a picture with Walt,” and Phil said, “Okay, I just gotta ask him something.”

Phil proceeded to walk up to Walt and ask him for directions to a shopping center. Walt wholeheartedly obliged, showing once again just how fucking cool he is. After Phil asked for his directions, he said, “Can we just get a picture?” Walt’s response? “Sure.”

I took a picture of Phil with Walt, and then, handed my friend the camera, knowing deep down inside that this would be a picture blown up to 8 X 10 proportions in order to grace the walls of my room (The Fortress of Geekitude) for years to come. As I walked up to The Walt, I felt a surge of exuberance pass through me, and said to the Flanagan, “I just want you to know that you’re the only reason I came here. Other people are talking about meeting Kevin Smith or Jason Lee, not me. I tell everyone I’m here to see Walt Flanagan.” Flanagan smiled and responded with a “Thanks.” Phil said, “Seriously man, you’re awesome.” Again, Flanagan smiled and said, “Thanks.” Phil snapped the picture, and we start talking to Walt. We carried on a conversation with Walt. I told him how I always reference him. That I’m a small time, low budget filmmaker, and anytime a friend plays multiple roles he is referred to as “Walt Flanagan.” Walt thinks this is pretty cool, so he laughs. Man! I made Walt Flanagan laugh.

Walt then goes on to compliment Phil on his Devils jersey. Later on, Phil told me that was the highlight of his night. Walt, if you’re reading this, you are friggin’ amazing.

Anyway, Phil and I went back to the theater, sat back in our seats, tired as all hell, but occasionally nudging each other and saying, “We met Walt!” We laughed about how cool he was. How we carried on a real conversation with him for Christ’s sake. Walt fucking Flanagan.

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